The Bet
by BregoMellonNin
Summary: Harry cannot seem to find the right girl, so Hermione takes the matter into her own hands. After further unsuccessful dating, Hermione gets suspicious and she extends a bet. Maybe what Harry needs isn't a girl at all and she intends to find out


**A/N**

This is my very first fanfiction, and I'd love if you'd tell me what you think.

Many thanks to Simply Matt for prereading and my awesome beta Mrs. Agget :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to J.K. Rowling, I only play :)

**The Bet**

Harry huffed and glared at Hermione as she stalked purposefully towards the bar, weaving in and out of the crowd in the club as if performing a perfect dance. Techno music blasted out of the speakers as lights in every possible colour danced around the room, highlighting the people dancing.

"Sorry, mate. You know how she is."

Ron sat next to Harry at their usual table in the corner. It was the best place for privacy. Well, as much privacy as one could hope for in a club on a Friday night, anyhow. Harry offered him the same glare too, hoping it would express his feelings about this silly outing.

"Hey! Don't look at me like that! _You_are the one who lost the bet, and you entered the damn thing knowing what she was likely to do!"

Harry slumped forwards until his forehead hit the table with a dull thud.

"I know," he groaned. But _if_he'd actually known she would be this serious, he would never have accepted the damn bet!

Hermione had been nagging him endlessly since he had broken up with Ginny after the war ended. When the aftermath ebbed out and his life settled into a sort of normalcy, he discovered that his feelings for Ginny had, sadly, changed. He still loved her and there would always be a place within his heart that was just hers. But, for some reason, his feelings had changed and he knew he could never lie to her. Now she was more like a sister, or maybe like he loved Hermione.

Definitely not the way he should love a girlfriend.

After Ginny, he had not dated for a long time, but then, of course, Hermione had taken the situation into her own hands and started setting him up with friends and colleagues. He had dated them all and some had been very nice, but for reasons he did not know, he had never been interested in any of them in _that way_. In the end, Hermione became agitated and then her over thinking mind quickly moved on to suspicions, which had led to an extremely uncomfortable discussion, at the end of which Hermione had told him, that since none of the girls she'd provided held any interest, Harry must be gay! He had spluttered and coughed and denied it fervently, thinking that Hermione had finally lost her mind!

Then Hermione, being Hermione, had turned sneaky!

Sometimes Harry thought she was the one with pronounced Slytherin traits and not him, regardless of what the Sorting Hat had said! So they had extended a bet, the conditions of which was that Harry had to go on a date with a girl of his own choosing and he had to kiss her, romantically. Failure on his part would mean that Hermione could choose her own means of establishing if he was gay or not, and that was something he dreaded.

Harry had chosen Patricia Cromwell, a former Ravenclaw, who was beautiful, sweet, and above all, loved quidditch. Thankfully, she was not one of the Boy Who Lived hysterics. Strangers swooning over him frankly scared Harry half to death. He had no interest whatsoever in those girls who had read everything in The Prophet and swallowed it whole; talk about gullible! No thanks!

Nonetheless, the date was less than pleasant. She had been attentive, not too chatty or giggly, and they had a good time discussing a lot of quidditch and agreed on a great deal of things. Still, Harry had not felt anything like real attraction or any interest at all in exchanging anything besides friendly chatter with her.

Once the date was over and they had reached her street, Harry had given her a kiss in a bid to win the bet, and prove a point...to himself. It had been awkward and short and it did nothing for him at all. There was no flutter in his stomach, no racing heart, nothing. He had considered faking just in order to win the bet, but for one, Harry was nothing if not honest. Second, he was not willing to deceive the girl. It wouldn't be fair. So he had gone home and brooded the rest of the night, wondering if perhaps he was indeed gay.

He could not recall ever checking out a guy, but he seemed about to run out of single women, unless he chose to try another country. So maybe, just maybe, Hermione had a point.

The idea of this terrified him!

.oOo.

The next day, on the way to lunch with Hermione and Ron, Harry had been discreetly checking out all the wizards he passed, but he didn't really find any of them particularly appealing. Though he was sure he didn't find any of the girls he'd dated more tempting than the passing wizards, so maybe he was just a very low drive bisexual?

When he reached the café, they ordered their usuals and sat at a table outside in the breeze. Eventually, he had to admit to Hermione that he had not been able to kiss the girl properly. Hermione had looked smug, and told him that next Friday they would be going to the club after she had dressed him in whatever she pleased, and she would then choose a guy he _had_to kiss.

Harry had protested valiantly, and Ron had supported him until Hermione had thrown her ginger haired husband a look that Harry guessed meant something along the lines of _'__if you don't shut up now, you will be sleeping ALONE on the couch for the next two weeks!'._ Not surprisingly, Ron had clamped his mouth shut and not uttered another word for the rest of their lunch hour, except for _"See ya, mate"_as they departed.

When Friday arrived, Harry had been waiting for Hermione at Grimmauld Place at noon as agreed. She had insisted on taking him shopping for new clothes, a hidden clause in the bet he had not agreed too but found himself going along with. The experience had been slightly terrifying since Hermione had forced him to try virtually every article of clothing in three different shops.

Harry's reluctance of shopping had not decreased after that ordeal, but at last Hermione had been satisfied with a luxurious emerald green cashmere sweater, and a pair of black trousers that Harry thought was a bit too tight. He kind of felt on display in them, but no amount of begging had been able to persuade Hermione to let him wear his old faded Levi's, so he would have to suffer in silence.

After a shower, he had put on his new outfit, although grumbling complaints all the way, and Hermione had attacked his hair with fierce determination. Harry had silently delighted in the fact that his bird's nest hair put up an impressive fight. No matter what Hermione had used for her repeated attempts, his hair remained stubbornly untamed. He had snickered and told her it was a lost cause, but that had only spurred her on and she had apparated out and returned with some colorful bottles. These had turned out to contain some hair products like those Hermione had used on her own hair to make it behave for the Yule Ball in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

After a heavy dose of some faintly glimmering gel, his hair had been manageable and Hermione had combed it. For the first time ever, Harry had looked in the mirror and seen his hair flat and docile. It had been slightly disturbing and even Hermione had cringed and went to fetch another bottle which held a substance similar to Muggle hair wax. Then she had proceeded to arrange his hair in an artful, carefully arranged disarray. It looked a lot different than his usual wild hair and Harry had been impressed, despite his best efforts not to be.

In the end, she had looked him over, appraising her work, and declared that he was perfect. Harry did not agree, but he had lost the bet fair and square, so he could not think of any valid reason to throw a tantrum, even though it was very tempting. So, he had followed Hermione to pick up Ron, who had gaped at Harry for a full five minutes before asking who he was and what he'd done to his best mate, and they headed to the club.

Once inside, Hermione had announced that she would pick out a guy for Harry to kiss, and then she had started searching the crowd for her victim. Harry had been begging for her to change her mind for almost half an hour when she had suddenly straightened up and said: "No _way_! He's here? Oh he's the one, no doubt about it!" Then she'd pushed away from the table and stalked off.

Harry watched as Hermione closed in on the bar and turned a little towards the right. He quickly scanned the people standing and sitting in that general area and he choked on his drink when his eyes encountered a familiar platinum blond head of hair.

Surely she didn't mean to ask _him_?

Oh, yes she did!

Hermione walked determinately up to the sitting form of one Draco Malfoy and tapped him on the shoulder. The blond turned towards her and seemed to be startled upon seeing the person that had intruded, but to his credit, he never showed any negative reaction. He seemed coolly polite and Harry could see his lips moving in what was presumably a greeting and an inquiry as to the reason of the interruption. Hermione threw a quick glance in Harry's direction, catching him watching the exchange with a venomous glare. Harry saw the corners of her mouth turning slightly up in a crooked smile that seemed just a little too smug and his breath hitched in his throat.

Oh, he was going to kill her! Slowly and painfully, and with such relish!

Hermione had started talking and Harry watched as Malfoy's expression twisted into a grin, his head snapping around to look in Harry's direction. His expression vaguely resembled the haughty one Harry remembered from his schooldays, but it was somehow softer and it was mixed with a sort of disbelieving look. Not in a negative way, more like whatever he'd been told was too good to be true. Well, the possibility of bullying The Boy Who Lived for his lack of sexual experience and possible gayness _would_probably seem too good to be true to Malfoy, Harry supposed.

The blond turned back to Hermione, who was still talking. Harry watched them talking with a horrified feeling of impending doom, and even Ron had gone completely still beside him, frozen in shock, like the time in the Forbidden Forest with Aragog and his fellow acromantulas.

Harry did no longer hate Malfoy. After the war, Harry had testified in the trials against the Malfoys, and his testimony had been largely responsible for keeping Draco and his mother out of Azkaban. Lucius, however, had not escaped prison and he'd been killed within a month by some of his fellow inmates. Neither Draco or Narcissa had had anything to do with the man after the war, and had treated him with icy hostility the few times they'd been in the court together.

Draco had been grateful to Harry, but not overly so, which Harry had been immensely relieved about. He had returned the hawthorn wand to its previous master and Draco had thanked him, after which they had sort of established an unspoken truce. Harry had only seen the blond a few times in the years since the wizarding world had been freed of Voldemort, and they had only exchanged greetings. Until now...

Hermione had obviously gone totally crazy. That much was clear to Harry.

At present, Hermione was finally moving away from Malfoy and Harry almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then he saw the blond rise from his chair and trail after Hermione, heading to their table.

Oh shit!

Malfoy couldn't have agreed!

Obviously, he was coming over to gloat, or taunt, or something other than...Harry swallowed hard and tried not to panic. This was over the line! In fact, it was so far past the line that it wasn't even funny. He turned to Ron again, but his trusted friend only sat, gaping at Malfoy walking behind Hermione with a grace and elegance that should be illegal.

Harry's mouth went completely dry. His eyes caught the gaze of grey and saw that Malfoy had schooled his features into an unreadable mask. Not exactly hostile, but neither was it reassuring Harry in any way that he wasn't about to suffer considerable ridicule. Harry let his eyes lower to the cream colored shirt that clung to Malfoy like a second skin. It hugged his chest and showed off his muscled torso very well. The color made Malfoy look less pale, even though his skin still had an almost pearly glow. Harry decided that had to be the lighting in the club manipulating his vision. Moving his eyes further down, he appraised the light tan skinny jeans that Malfoy had somehow managed to pour himself into. They didn't leave much to the imagination and Harry had to admit, though only to himself, that the blond had very nice legs. They were long and shapely, but still very masculine.

Harry lifted his gaze once more to the face of Malfoy, who was looking at him with an amused expression. Harry realized he'd been ogling Malfoy and immediately blushed furiously. Damn his strong blood flow! It was quite useful in other areas, but when redirected to his face, he knew he'd be a bright scarlet that could almost rival the hair on Ron's head.

When Hermione reached the table, she looked at Harry with an innocent smile and pushed Malfoy in front of her, to stand next to Harry. He threw her his iciest glare and vowed revenge, such sweet revenge. Then he switched to look at the gorgeous blond git, who was looking at him with a hint of a crooked smile. He said nothing, however, and the silence stretched until it became slightly uncomfortable. Hermione cleared her throat and jerked her head towards Malfoy. Harry was still blushing and he could feel his temper rising.

"What, Hermione? Do I have to flirt with the bugger, too?"

Hermione sighed and Malfoy's eyebrows shot up under his fringe.

"I don't know how you normally do this, Potter, but most people tend to extend a greeting or even some niceties before endeavoring kissing someone. I know it might be a little difficult for you, seeing as you obviously lack anything even resembling good manners, but do try, will you?" The blond drawled with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The rant immediately made Harry flashback to his school days when they were nothing but rivals. Annoyed, he decided to act at least a bit more grown up than he had at sixteen and stood up, extending a hand towards Malfoy.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. What a pleasure to see you again. I trust you are well?" Harry said, with surprisingly little sarcasm. He almost felt proud in accomplishing such a near friendly tone in the presence of his former nemesis.

Malfoy looked like he was about to fire off a snarky comment for about two seconds, and then he suddenly barked a laugh that made both Harry and Ron jump in their seats.

"Don't strain yourself, Potter," the blond managed with a snort. His eyes kept an amused glint and Harry found that he couldn't keep from smiling back. Somehow, a smile totally changed Malfoy, turning him from annoying git to drop dead gorgeous in a flash of perfect white teeth. It was like his whole aura somehow changed into a softer, ethereal beauty.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes from Malfoy, who was looking right back at him. Hermione interrupted their mutual staring with an impatient huff, and Harry turned his head towards her.

"Okay, Hermione. You run this show. Am I supposed to believe you actually persuaded Malfoy to do this without paying him a million galleons?"

Hermione giggled and Malfoy's left eyebrow arched haughtily.

"I assure you no payment has been made," the blond said tersely. "Now get on with it or I might change my mind about whether or not this is a good idea."

Harry gawked.

"Um... I wasn't exactly expecting you would think this was a good idea to begin with. Won't it hurt your image to be seen kissing the Boy Who Wouldn't Bloody Die?"

Malfoy snorted.

"Hardly. Besides, it's not very polite to refuse lending a helping hand. Mrs. Weasley here assured me it was a very important cause."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at Malfoy.

"That's not exactly how I put it! And please, call me Hermione. 'Mrs. Weasley' is my mother in law!"

Malfoy smirked at her and replied politely, "As you wish... _Hermione_. You may call me Draco then."

Hermione smiled at Malfoy, _Draco_, and Harry had to fight the urge to get up and run as his, not insubstantial, survival instincts flared to life. This was _bad_!

"So, let me get this straight - no pun intended - we are trying to establish whether Potter is gay? A puff? A ponce? Shirtlifter?" Malfoy was practically bursting with barely contained glee.

"_Hey_! Pot. Kettle. _Very_black!" Harry cried indignantly.

Malfoy laughed again and Harry had to clamp his lips shut in order to prevent the smile threatening to burst forth. What was wrong with him? When had Malfoy's taunting become funny? His stomach felt weird, like there was a whole colony of ants swarming around in there, and a warm feeling was spreading through him, originating somewhere in his chest.

"Yeah, well, I don't mind being gay, Potter. Would it really be so awful if you were?" Malfoy asked, and flashed another dazzling smile.

Harry positively gaped at him. Truthfully, he wasn't sure it would be so bad. Being this close to Malfoy almost made it seem like it would be a good thing. Harry shook his head to clear his mind. What the hell was happening? Did he just seriously consider actually liking this insane proposal? Liking _Malfoy_? Granted, the blond was probably the most gorgeous guy Harry had ever seen, but still; this was getting really weird!

Malfoy was still looking expectantly at Harry, who realized that the blond was probably waiting for an answer.

"Um, well, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it much. Never had any reason to," Harry mumbled.

"Well, now you have a reason, so look around! There's a few good looking guys here. Any of them catch your eye?" Malfoy asked.

Harry looked at the crowd in the club. There were several guys who were quite good looking indeed, but as before, he didn't find himself tempted at all. None of them inspired any kind of reaction in him whatsoever. When he turned back to Malfoy, however, his stomach did a weird kind of somersault. Oh, this was _so bad!_

Harry cleared his throat and said, "No, none of them."

Malfoy looked at him dubiously.

"Not even the hunk standing over by the toilet? He's like, really hot. Even _I _wouldn't kick him out of bed, if you know what I mean." Malfoy accompanied the last sentence with a cheeky grin that had Harry's insides melting into a hot mush.

In an effort to hide the effect the blond was having on him, Harry snorted and turned to take a look at the man in question. He had dark brown hair, a handsome face, and an athletic body. He wore expensive designer clothes and had unnaturally white teeth. _Bleached for sure,_Harry thought. He supposed the guy was hot, but it still didn't do anything for him. He turned back to Malfoy and shook his head.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked at Harry with an exasperated expression. Then, he turned to Hermione.

"If he's gay, he certainly hides it well."

Hermione pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I still won the bet, so he has to kiss a guy and you are my choice. So, unless you suddenly decided you don't want to participate, I suggest you get on with it!" Her bushy hair fairly crackled with the intensity of her stance.

Malfoy's mouth lifted into a crooked smile that made Harry's heart race so fast he thought it was actively trying to beat its way out of his body. Then, the blond stepped closer.

"You ready, Potter?" he asked. His expression was amused, a little smug maybe, but it was his eyes that made Harry able to stand up and face him. They were honest and intense. Harry saw something in them that made him trust that at least Malfoy wasn't doing this for revenge. What the real reason was, he couldn't fathom.

Harry took another step, bringing them close enough that he could touch Malfoy if he so desired. Then, he suddenly froze. He had no idea what to do at this point. Normally, he didn't really care how it turned out whenever he kissed someone, so there had never before been any pressure to do well. To be honest, Harry had no idea why there was in this particular situation, or well... maybe he had a small clue.

Swallowing hard, he tipped his head up and looked into the grey eyes, silently praying that Malfoy wouldn't have any issues covering the last step between them since Harry's legs were still refusing to cooperate.

Hermione interrupted, making Harry jump.

"Remember it has to be a _real_kiss, none of that auntie-peck stuff!"

Malfoy answered without breaking eye contact with Harry.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I _think_I know what I'm doing," the blond said with sarcasm dripping off the words.

Then, he smiled at Harry and raised his hands to cup either side of his face. As the blond made contact with Harry's skin, an almost electric jolt passed through him, and judging by the fractional widening of the grey eyes, he thought Malfoy felt it too.

The hands on his face slid back and into his hair, fingers threading through the carefully sculpted disarray to take hold. Harry's heart was still thumping hard, the beats an impressive imitation of those in a fierce tango, and he was breathing way too fast for him to pass as unaffected. Had this really been what he'd been missing?

Malfoy's face was inching closer and the hands in his hair urged him forward. He could feel the blond's breath across his cheek now, and mere centimeters separated them. Harry breathed in the essence of Malfoy and it was heavenly. It made him simultaneously dizzy and more clear headed than he'd ever been before.

Why was he fighting this when it suddenly felt so right? When it felt like it was all he'd been waiting for?

The warmth in his chest had morphed and now it felt like a fiery hot liquid, rolling through his veins, burning a new path where it went. Harry gasped at the sensation and all of a sudden it seemed like the most important thing in the whole universe was to close the distance between them and put his lips where they longed to go. So Harry did. Maybe it was his Gryffindor bravery that made him take the last step, but he didn't care about the reasons anymore. All that mattered was the soft lips beneath his own.

For a second, Malfoy seemed frozen, but as Harry gently continued the kiss, a wave of energy surged through them and shocked the blond into action. His hands clamped tighter in Harry's hair and pulled him closer as he kissed back with passion.

Harry's blood was roaring in his veins, pumping pure desire out to every cell in his body. _This_was what he'd been searching for! This was what it was all about! Harry's entire body was screaming with delight and his arms raised of their own volition to wrap around Malfoy's waist and pull him close. Harry only stopped when their bodies were pressed flush together.

The close contact sparked more of the electrical energy and Harry almost moaned aloud at the sensations coursing through him. His hands slipped under the hem of Malfoy's shirt and caressed the velvety soft skin covering a surprisingly muscular back.

Harry tipped his head a little more and broke the full lips on lips to suck lightly on Malfoy's full bottom lip. It tasted divine and he couldn't help biting softly and tugging it a little with his teeth. Apparently Malfoy approved wholeheartedly, if the whimper that escaped him was anything to go by. Harry's teeth released the blond and he licked the bruised lip before pressing his lips to Malfoy's again. He had never had this many feelings and needs running rampant simply from a kiss. It was nothing short of intoxicating!

Malfoy opened his mouth slightly and his tongue darted out to meet Harry's. Harry felt it slide along his own, into his mouth, and even though he tried not to make a sound, the fireworks going off in his head had apparently short-circuited his brain and the sound that burst forth was halfway between a moan and a whimper. He would have been embarrassed about sounding so needy if he hadn't been otherwise occupied.

Harry was slightly alarmed when he felt his cock start to take an interest in the proceedings. His trousers were way too tight for this to be comfortable.

As they clung together, all but devouring each other, Harry's mind was spinning out of control. Kissing Malfoy was bloody brilliant! Like mindshatteringly fan-bloody-tastic! Which probably meant that Harry needed to concede to Hermione that she'd, once again, been right.

Though, he still didn't care for any other guys, so maybe he wasn't exactly homosexual in the traditional sense. Perhaps he was just... well... Malfoysexual? Now that was truly disturbing! In his current state though, Harry couldn't really bring himself to care enough to actually stop the kiss. His cock had swelled to what felt like well beyond full size and was now officially painful.

Malfoy's hands were sliding lower, caressing Harry's back on their way to grab his arse. Harry struggled, wanting at the same time to push back into those lovely hands cupping his arse and to buck forwards to bring their hips together. He compromised by grabbing the blond's behind - and wow, what a fine one it was - and pulling him forwards to keep the hands squeezing his buttocks, but also achieving some much needed friction for his aching erection.

When Malfoy's hips bumped against his, Harry felt an obvious bulge press into his hip and the knowledge that their kiss had also had an effect on the blond made Harry moan. Loudly, too, he thought, since there was a gasp nearby.

The sound brought Harry back to reality and he suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of a club, being watched by at least Ron and Hermione, and probably several others too at this point. They hadn't exactly been holding back once they got started and even though kissing was neither forbidden in the club or even frowned upon, their display had most likely not been very appropriate for a public venue.

Harry thought he should stop the kiss but he didn't want Malfoy to think he regretted it. Actually, he _really_wanted to keep going but this wasn't the place for it. So Harry pulled back slowly but Malfoy just followed, keeping their lips attached and Harry eventually had to release the blond's buttocks, though he'd really have preferred to leave his hands where they were, to push Malfoy back gently. When they finally separated, Harry let his hands fall to his side and grabbed Malfoy's wrists to keep his hands from retreating. They were both breathing heavily, chests heaving, lips swollen, and gazes burning.

Harry kept eye contact with the blond who had an intense expression. His eyes were dark and smouldering, burning with desire. Harry thought he must look the same. He had always worn his feelings on his sleeve and right now, he was feeling so much, so intensely, that it wouldn't be possible to keep it hidden. It had to be radiating from him like light from a beacon.

The sudden licking of those luscious lips made Harry's cock twitch, which reminded him urgently of the fact that his trousers had become _way_too tight. Stupid skinny jeans! Frankly, they'd have to go, and soon, preferably in a bedroom somewhere, with Malfoy nearby.

The thought of himself in a bed with the blond sent a wave of desire shooting through Harry, settling in his stomach like a fierce hunger, though not one that food would have any effect on whatsoever.

"Holy fuck!" he breathed, still looking at Malfoy, who had not yet tried to take his hands off Harry's arse.

Malfoy chuckled softly and gave Harry's buttocks a squeeze. "Indeed, Potter."

That made Harry laugh, too.

"I think you can call me Harry, at least as long as you're still groping my arse."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but didn't move his hands.

"Fine, _Harry_. Then I'm Draco to you, too."

Harry smiled and shot back, "But my hands are no longer on your arse!"

That made the blond snort, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"That's not my fault now, is it? If it makes you call me Draco, you can put your hands back there."

Harry was about to retort when a throat was cleared. They both jumped as they'd disappeared into their own world again. Harry snapped his head around to look at his friends. Ron's face closely resembled a tomato in color and he was studiously inspecting the ceiling while Hermione, who was the one who'd interrupted them, was smirking at them, looking very smug. Actually, she looked at lot like the cat that caught the canary. A big fat canary at that!

Harry blushed. That seemed to be his customary reaction in these situations.

"Um... well," Harry tried.

"Well what? Draco dear, would you mind sharing your findings?" Hermione asked in a tone that hinted she did, in fact, not need an answer and well, it had been pretty damn obvious, Harry thought.

Malfoy, no _Draco_, smirked at her and then looked back at Harry.

"Sorry to be the one to break it to you, _Harry_, but you are most definitely, without a doubt, completely and utterly gay!"

Draco's expression was so deadpan that Harry only held on to his composure for about half a second before he burst out laughing.

"Well yeah, seems so," Harry managed after his laughter died off. Once more, he looked around the club to watch some of the guys there. His eyes encountered the hot guy Draco had pointed out before and he almost cringed. Not only did he not find the guy appealing, now the sight of him was close to repulsive to Harry. Another sweep of the rest of the crowd yielded the same result.

Harry shrugged and turned back to Draco. The blond made his mouth water and his pulse quicken and Harry resigned himself to the fact that he seemed to only be attracted to snarky blonds with lean, muscular bodies, grey eyes, and fine arses. Who'd gone to Hogwarts... Played quidditch... And preferably named Draco. _Not many choices left then,_Harry thought while a wry smile turned up on his face.

Draco was observing him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Why would it make the blond tense to see Harry looking at the other guys in the club? He'd been so giddy about outing Harry. Then it suddenly hit. Draco was jealous! The thought made Harry's breath hitch. Could it be possible that Draco truly found him attractive? That there'd been some amount of truth beneath the sarcastic looks? Well, only one way to find out, really.

"Draco," Harry started hesitantly, "I'm not denying that I'm gay, but I still don't find any of _those_guys attractive at all."

He made sure to make an obvious differentiation between the random guys in the club and the one whose hands were still on his arse.

When Harry had started looking around the room, Draco's hands had been retreating slightly but now they froze and Harry watched as the blond's expression went from confused to calculating and settled on hopeful. Harry's insides were once again a melting, churning mass of boiling desire. His breathing had slowed somewhat during their conversation but now it was increasing again.

Draco seemed to notice the change in Harry's expression and his hands went back to grab Harry's buttocks firmly.

"No? Well then, any other blokes you fancy?" the blond drawled.

Harry flashed him a wicked grin.

"Well, recent research has brought it to my attention that I have a weak spot for tall gorgeous blonds grabbing my arse."

Draco gasped in fake surprise.

"Oh? Any of those here tonight?" he asked and looked around the club as if searching for such a guy.

Harry snorted and whacked the blond on the arm.

"Have you _seen_any other blonds with their hands on my arse, you git?"

Draco threw back his head and laughed loudly. That made Ron jump and shoot the blond a startled look. To be fair, none of them had really heard Draco laugh before today. Not for real, anyway. They'd been on the receiving end of his laugh many times, of course, but that had been gloating, scathing laughs and didn't even closely resemble his true laugh, which softened his features, making him look happy and carefree. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Draco look carefree before. Ever! Not that he'd had any reason to, come to think of it. It was a good look on him though, Harry thought.

Draco gave him a smile, took his hands off Harry, and stepped back until there was a few feet between them. Hermione moved forward to stand beside them and smiled brightly before she turned towards Draco.

"Thank you for doing this, Draco. You were most helpful," she said with a cheeky grin.

Harry could see that Draco took it as a dismissal; his expression closed a little and he looked like he was about to walk off. Well, that wouldn't do. Harry was nowhere near finished with him, thank you very much!

Harry launched forward and grabbed Draco's wrist to keep him from running off. He put what he hoped was a reassuring yet seductive smile on his face while gently pulling the blond a little closer.

"Yeah, thanks for helping us out, Draco, though I'm afraid I'm not done testing yet. We better make _really _sure I'm gay. All the _way_gay," Harry said in a low, sultry voice.

He pulled Draco closer still and he could see the blond's expression change with every millimeter Harry dragged him nearer. Disappointment changed to doubt, to hope, and finally settled on hesitant joy. Harry offered him a beaming smile and squeezed his hand before leaning in close enough to feel Draco's breath fan across his face.

"My place or yours?"

Harry almost didn't recognize his own voice. It was a husky, nearly vibrant, tone. Draco's eyes widened and he gaped at Harry. In the background, he heard Ron sputtering and babbling, something about _No way!_ and _Not the ferret!_and speculations on whether to ship Harry off to St. Mungo's in a straitjacket, but Harry didn't pay it any mind.

Draco was still standing frozen, gawking at Harry with his mouth ajar.

"Draco?" Harry waved a hand in front of the blond. The grey eyes fluttered a little and then his focus snapped back to Harry.

"Well, you certainly go all out. From refusing to be gay to trying to bed me, in less than half an hour! Impressive, I must say," Draco smirked.

Harry lifted an eyebrow and smirked back.

"If you're not interested in helping me with with this particular case of, ah... _research_, you are free to leave."

At that, Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry's hand tighter.

"Your place. I've always wanted to see how the Chosen One lives," Draco drawled. Harry snorted.

"Figures! Well come on then," Harry said and then turned to face his friends. Hermione was now looking as though she was about to explode from the amount of giggling and gloating she was holding in. Ron was still the color of tomato, though starting to turn slightly green.

Harry threw a wicked grin at them and towed Draco along behind him towards the exit and called out over his shoulder.

"Hope you don't mind that I skip the rest of this party. Oh, and don't bother coming by later, you know how unstable my silencing charms can be when I'm _occupied_!"

He said that last bit while waggling his eyebrows and smirking at Draco, who looked rather torn between the need to rise above such childish behavior and bursting out in cheers. He settled on pulling Harry close and crashing their lips together for a few long seconds. Then, he stalked towards the door, looking very much like a man with a purpose and Harry was dragged along. Not that he minded. Not at all.


End file.
